


Let Me Off At the Top

by Niccolò Machiavelli (Piccolo_Machiavelli)



Category: 15th Century CE RPF, 16th Century CE RPF, Historical RPF, Machiavelli - Fandom
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-04
Updated: 2017-01-04
Packaged: 2018-09-14 17:49:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9196685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Piccolo_Machiavelli/pseuds/Niccol%C3%B2%20Machiavelli
Summary: An AU where Machiavelli gets chosen to be the next ruler of Florence after Savonarola's untimely death.





	

“Marietta, have you seen my crown?”

Marietta smiled when she heard her husband’s request, bringing him the lopsided metal object. It was a surprise gift she had given him for his birthday once, after the de’ Medici were expelled. He jokingly admitted then that he wouldn’t mind taking their place and all he would need to command would be a crown. Off to the blacksmith Marietta went with the order, drawing a quick sketch on the way there. The blacksmith was baffled by the odd request, but nevertheless happy to have something else to make besides swords and armor for soldiers. Marietta left in his hands the sketch and a few jewels she had managed to recover from her jewelry collection, and she departed with a giddy grin. The man had promised her it would be done in a day, an unusually short time for a grandiose object, but she thought not to question it.

When she returned the next day, however, what met her was a half-conscious blacksmith holding a bizarrely-shaped metal hoop with a few spiky ends.

“That’s… it?” Marietta had inquired, frowning. The jewels were sloppily pasted on and it appeared to be made out of a thin and flexible metal.

“Well, it is a crown, isn’t it?” the blacksmith yawned and handed it to her. “Treasure this damn thing. I stayed up the entire night working on it and just finished it a moment before you came.”

“I suppose I shall make do with it,” she answered, taking it from him. “Just finished it a moment ago” was the understatement of the century - the metal was still piping hot and glowing a faint orange around the jewels. Marietta yelped and dropped it. It landed on the ground harshly, one of the prongs bending to the side from the impact. “My God! You didn’t tell me it would be so hot!”

“Hot? What, that thing? I wouldn’t know,” he replied, revealing his burnt and calloused fingers. “I have no feeling in my hands.”

Marietta felt sorry for the man. She hadn’t meant to make him rush. “Please, it’s fine, don’t worry,” she tried to console him as she picked the crown up, fixing the bent edge. “Grazie, I mean it, thank you for everything-”

“Heh, you’re welcome,” the blacksmith uttered, rubbing his eyes. “I think I’ll be sleeping most of today after I worked all night on that wretched thing.”

She helped him into a chair so he could rest, babying him and bringing him a drink. “Don’t overwork yourself like this again. It’s bad for you,” she discouraged, wagging her finger at him. “My husband does it all the time. I speak from experience.”

“What are you, my mother?” he said, grinning sleepily. “I don’t need your help, trust me.” He fell asleep as soon as she had turned her back.

Marietta walked home with the crown, frustratedly trying to straighten it out before she presented it as a gift. Her husband had no idea she would take the request to heart. And from the day he received it on, he insisted on wearing it around the house, all of the time.

Niccolò took the crown from his wife and placed it atop his head, smiling in foolish glee. He twisted it so the bent prong faced the back. It was wonky and imperfect - similar to the love they shared. The smile faded from his face when he reminisced about the details. The marriage to her had been arranged - a deal made between two powerful Italian families - and neither had a choice in the matter. Marietta was elated at the ceremony, blushing and smiling shyly every time he spoke to her, and she was flamboyant, tickling the palms of his hands and caressing his face. He had tried so damn hard to not stand there like a statue as he was publicly fondled by his tipsy bride-to-be, but he had to play into it. It would please her family and his own to enjoy it. Yet even when it was sealed with a kiss, Niccolò couldn’t help but cringe slightly. What was wrong with him? This was his partner for life and she adored him. But he felt no chemistry or attraction. She was a cute, plump little woman with a curvy waist and plenty of features worth looking at, but there was nothing there. Marietta had grown on him over the course of several years and her affection had never slipped away, even in dark times, but Niccolò barely lightened up. He was forced to after the birth of their first child, and the others that would soon follow, claimed Marietta. That was her joy - her husband, children, and her cooking. God, how he wished he could feel the same. What stirred excitement in him were political debates and his city, Firenze. He was willing to roll a stone for the city if it meant he could serve a place so grand. They both had separate passions and they both wished they could share them equally. Marriage was about sacrifice, however willing or unwilling it was.

Marietta had sacrificed everything. Before him, she was a successful businesswoman and a part-time merchant. She enjoyed cooking in her mother’s family restaurant for others. Her passion was serving a bowl of steaming-hot soup to a patron and watching as their face lit up. A warm aroma lingered in the air around her restaurant, easing tension and dissipating negativity. There was something special to her about seeing people walking into her restaurant smiling. When she was left as the head of the restaurant, she could never see anything else for herself. Settling down and having children never crossed her mind until the marriage was arranged for her.   
On the day of her wedding, she was told that she had to continue on her family’s name. She protested, insisting that she was independent and did not need a man to impede her progress, but when she saw how much her family wanted grandchildren, she acquiesced. She sacrificed owning her restaurant for the marriage and instead became an idle cook in her down-time. Although it was no fair compromise, she was elated to have someone to serve meals to. It fit her like a glove. She could create all sorts of meals for her picky children and husband. Even though she missed her restaurant terribly, she always put a smile upon her face to seem happy in her new life. Truth be told, she was.

“Grazie, la amora mia,” Niccolò thanked her, still lost in the memories. It was evident he was troubled. “Ho una domanda.”

“Sì?” Marietta responded inquisitively, “Cos’ è?” She sat down next to him on the bed, reaching to take his hand. 

“Sei felica, Marietta?” he asked her, averting his eyes to the floor. He had no idea where the thought came from. He slipped out of his Florentine Italian as he struggled to gather his thoughts. “I mean it. Are you truly happy?”

“Where did this come from?” Marietta frowned. She squeezed his hands tightly and grinned up at him. “Of course I’m happy! Niccolò, I didn’t realize it then, but this might have been what I was looking for in my life. I wouldn’t have it any other way.” The affection and her reply did not console him in the least. 

“Dice sul seria?” he returned the gesture and stared at her worriedly. “I know maybe this marriage isn’t everything you hoped it would be, but it is killing me inside to think I’m keeping you from achieving your dreams. It makes me sick to think you want anything else. Don’t tell me what I want to hear if it isn’t the truth. Are you actually happy, Marietta?”

“Tu lo sai,” she responded, her cheeks turning a bright red. “I have been blessed to live this life with you and the children. Somewhere in that heart of yours, I know you feel the same. Let me ask this question of you: are you truly happy?”

He cringed. Of course, she had to ask it of him. It jarred violently somewhere near his heart to hear the words spoken. He would never use the word happy to describe himself in that moment. Content? Perhaps, but happy? No.   
What the hell had he sacrificed?  
His wife sat next to him, inching closer every second until she could snake her arms around his body in the way she always did. The only thing that had changed for Niccolò was his domestic life. Besides that, he hadn’t given up his career, studies, or his dream for this kind of life. He still was a Chancellor and a diplomat. Sometimes, he would be gone for weeks at a time and forget to send letters home. No one ever knew what he was doing while he was off in other countries. His life seemed to be shrouded in mystery.  
What was he hiding for? He hated letting his guard down, but he could not keep it up in front of his family. There was nothing he needed protection from. He and Marietta were as thick as thieves and both knew a great deal about the other’s past. Marriage required moving on from it, and he couldn’t keep up.   
When he was first told he was entering an arranged marriage, he couldn’t help but groan. A binding contract would limit his experiences with other women and his political endeavors. If he ever married, he would have only done so out of love. He had no say in the matter. It was essential to him that he still at least be able to explore while he was young. The explorations hadn’t stopped. He was leading the Florentine militia at this point in his career and still getting into tangles with other women. The only thing that had changed was a sense of guilt he now felt whenever he was off with someone else. Almost every affair had turned into a tearful confession or a scolding from his investigative wife. She had caught him in bed with other women during the first few years of the marriage, especially on nights he thought she was away somewhere. He became a bit more stealthy, deciding instead to have the meeting place outside the house, but he ended up repenting for the most part. This was a usual routine for them by now. It was one of the few reasons Marietta hated when he went off on diplomatic missions: she knew he would find another woman in the cities he went to, and this had made her feel unwanted in ways she never felt before. The apologies never stopped because he never kept true to his word. He despised himself for it.   
Yet there was a certain joy in always having a happy spouse to come home to. There was a certain joy in having smiling children. It was these moments that meant everything to him, even if his primary concerns were with power and politics.

Niccolò could not bring himself to answer her question. He was aware she knew full well why he wasn’t speaking. “Niccolò, listen to me: I know what’s going on. You’re deflecting your feelings on me. I am happy. You can clearly see that. Do you know who you are?” Marietta stared at him intently. He could not help but to cast a blank gaze. “You’re Niccolò Machiavelli and you’re the best politician I’ve ever seen. You, out of all people, can read others like a book. My happiness is apparent to you. It is you who is not content.” She kissed his cheek. “And, you’re my wonderful husband and a loving father. That’s the most important thing, dear.”

He forced a smile, weak from his internal battles, but he laughed when Marietta kissed him. She had a way of making things better, even through subtle gestures. It bothered and concerned him deeply when he saw Marietta could read him back. “I wouldn’t say I’m not content, Marietta, I just-” he could barely bring himself to finish the lie. It was more of a lie to himself than anyone else, since part of him was happy in his current life. “I am happy. Believe me. I may not show it as much as you do, and neither you nor I chose this, but you won’t see me complaining about having a sweet wife and gorgeous children like all of you. At least I know where they get their looks from.” The smile on his face widened, but this time, it was a genuine one. It felt so good to be like this.

She scoffed playfully. “Oh, you,” she muttered, giving him a small shove. "I love you just the way you are. I wish you could be here a little more, but I understand how important politics are to you. After all, it is what gives us money.”

“And I can’t imagine what I would do without it,” he answered, taking his wife into his arms. She snuggled up against him. “It has been my dream, just like the restaurant was to you." Niccolò was interested in ruling after the de’ Medici were forcibly removed. He admired the actions of princes and soldiers he had seen, and he thought he could rule by following their actions and advice. It would be relatively easy, as long as he had the favor of the people. “I wish you could have your restaurant, Marietta. It is not right that you were the only one to make sacrifices.” 

“I’m fine now!” Marietta cried, although she did enjoy her husband’s concern. “Niccolò, this family is everything to me. I will confess, I don’t know how to feel about you in power. It’s… dangerous. I would much rather you stay alive as a Chancellor. It isn’t easy to be in power. Just look at what happened the last time there was a monarchy here.”

He balled his hands into frustrated fists. “But I could fix these problems. I could give the people hope again. Besides, the thought of being in power thrills me. We could be wealthy beyond our dreams. We would never have to worry about anything. Think about it.” Niccolò had no doubt he would be a good ruler. He was more pragmatic than those before him, and Italy was in need of a firm ruler in the time of chaos. It would be better for them if they had money. Nothing could scare him out of the race, it seemed, and he was not above scheming or manipulating his way to the top. In fact, it gave him a rush of pleasure whenever he got away with it. Oddly enough, it excited him more when he was caught, called out on it, but the subject of his choice let him go through with it anyway. These little things made him question both his sanity and morality. “Marietta, by God, I just want to take care of you.” He blinked rapidly to stop tears from welling up in his eyes. Tender moments brought out odd emotions in him. 

“It’s all right,” Marietta whispered, sensing that her husband was tensing up. “See? Contrary to what you believe, you have a heart. Now, if you were actually thinking with the right part of your body, you’d realize leading Italy isn’t for you.” She reached up to kiss him again.

Niccolò rolled his eyes. His wife never failed to insert her overly-sexual innuendo into a conversation. “I know what’s good for all of us, believe me. Judging by what I’ve heard and observed, I have quickly gained the people’s support. All I have to say are a few provoking words, maybe even a poignant story, and I’ll take the crown and lead. I’m almost there, la amora mia. This could be our reality.” When he spoke of ruling, his whole face lit up. Marietta knew she wasn’t his main interest, but it pleased her to see a smile on her husband’s normally stoic face.

“Niccolò,” she interrupted him by stressing his name, “Just take a little while to think about it. You always call yourself pragmatic and rational, but you’re making this decision based on emotion. Haven’t you chided me before about that?” Marietta slinked her arms away from him. “Maybe I’m messing with your head. Heaven knows you might have trouble when yours truly is trying to seduce you.” She winked and walked out of the room, leaving him to sit there in wonder.

Like he did in all other situations, he weighed the choices. Currently, Italy had temporary rulers put into place while a list of candidates was being created. There was no doubt in Niccolò’s mind that he would win the right to leadership. Yet Marietta still hadn’t stopped nagging him. She was a constant worrier and he knew she just wanted him safe. Yes, it would be slightly more unsafe, but that was the reason to have an enormous army. It would serve to give him incentive.  
He was briefly peppered with images of him riding a horse valiantly into battle, or sitting on top of a pile of gold florins, or swinging at soldiers with a longsword. It was likely none of those things would happen while he was in power, but the thoughts made him smile. Niccolò could see himself hanging a silver necklace on Marietta and presenting his children with priceless jewels. He would say yes in an instant if it meant everyone was happy. The power would belong to him, Marietta would be rich beyond imagination, and their children would forever be taken care of. In that situation, everyone would own.   
But no, indeed, that was not the case.  
Marietta was no material girl. She never cared for money or tangible presents and wealth never appealed to her. Niccolò would buy her jewelry, but she seldom wore it out. Part of it was due to a fear that a thief would cut the necklace off of her, but the other part was that to her, she felt it was fake. There was something forced about wearing a trinket from a loved one. It was not a love for wealth that attracted her to Niccolò, so why should she bother? She adored him for his quirks and his flaws, the way he dressed and the way he spoke. He was perfect to her and she could never be more content with the way things were.  
Maybe it was he who desired the wealth and fame. Since his wife didn’t care for it and his children were still too little to give much of an opinion, he was out for himself. It wasn’t unusual for him to be. After all, service in the government depended on looking out only for himself in case someone tried to double-cross him. Yes, they would have limitless wealth, but it would be matched with limitless issues and concerns not currently present. Most political dissidents aren’t out to assassinate diplomats or chancellors.  
In every instance, he weighed his choices, and this one was no different. Marietta had sacrificed everything for this. It was time to start doing so as well.

Marietta walked into the bedroom to find her husband staring at the ceiling, fixing the crown on his head. Niccolò was no longer lost in his fantasies of dreams and power. Surely there was someone out there who could do it just as well and have nothing to lose. But not him - no, he had too much to hold onto.

“Salve, Niccolò. I trust you’ve made a decision?” she asked, tossing a rolled-up letter into his lap. “Well, this was just delivered! The choice is in your hands now. I’m not trying to add any pressure, but you can take it if you choose. Really, I don’t mind. I won’t stop you from reaching your dream. You’ve made it this far and you’re almost at the peak as I see it.” Marietta stood in front of her husband. “You look adorable and lonely on that bed. Mind if I join you?” she winked and placed a slender hand on her hip.

“Let me off at the top, Marietta.”

His reply shocked her. “I’m sorry, what?” she responded, the smirk fading from her face. “What do you mean?”

“I said, let me off at the top. You mentioned the peak, but I’ve chosen to back out. Marietta, you’ve given up everything for me. You were forced to let go of your dreams just to make me happy. It was unfair to you that I didn’t do the same. It’s about damn time I make a sacrifice for you as well.” Marietta let out a small gasp, tears welling up in her eyes. “Don’t, per favore, Marietta. This is what I want; I’ve just been looking past it this whole time. You and the kids are what I want, and it’s time I appreciate what I have before it's gone.”

“Are you sure?” she squeaked, tears sliding down her puffy cheeks. “This could be what you really want. You’re certain you don’t want it?” She wiped away the tears with her sleeve, swatting her face as more appeared in their place.

“Nay, I’m good,” Niccolò confirmed, a smile forming on his face in newfound euphoria.


End file.
